


Fire and Fears

by Carter_Ash_Official



Series: A Reluctant Inquisitor [6]
Category: swtor - Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-08-11 12:26:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7892275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carter_Ash_Official/pseuds/Carter_Ash_Official
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Urtel makes a power play to try and control Wenia and she tries to figure out what she did wrong with Andronikos.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fire and Fears

“Keep me appraised of the situation, Urtel. We may need to take action.” Lady Thul caught sight of Wenia and Andronikos. “Ah, Lord Zana. Sorry to keep you waiting. I hope your search in House Alde was fruitful.” She leaned forward and stage whispered. “I’ve been anxiously dreaming up scandals we could catch the spotless Nomar Organa in.”

Wenia gave her the holodisc. “We got this from the archives.”

Well, Andronikos had, but that wasn’t important. The pirate was currently sitting on Wenia’s left, trying to stay awake.

Urtel caught her eye and gave her an alluring smile.

Elana Thul flicked on the holoprojector and they all watched footage from the engagement party. Lots of boring politics from whatever years ago, lots of sucking up to others, and a small amount of drama with a young lady running away from young Nomar Organa who broke her heart.

“Not really a scandal,” Wenia observed. “But he was engaged once.”

Andronikos grunted and sat up, paying closer attention.

“Engaged? Interesting.” Lady Thul stood and thoughtfully looked at the paused image. “Jedi aren’t usually the marrying kind.” She scrolled through the footage. “Let me see. Engagement announced: Nomar and Rehanna. My goodness. This is juicy! It must’ve been somewhere between twenty, thirty years ago. Long before my time,” she added. “But I remember hearing my nurses talk about it.”

Wenia patiently waited for more gossip. It was best to not interrupt a gossiper when they got going.

“The sister to the Lord of House Rist was engaged to a prominent noble against the wishes of their families, but the coward broke it off.” Lady Thul started circling the couch.

Andronikos looked crabby and like he was about to be rude.

Wenia spoke before he could. “And here I thought Jedi were supposed to keep their promises.”

“I don’t know about that, but the timing of this holorecording is about right, as is the name: Rehanna Rist. Rist is a house of highly trained assassins, and Lady Rist is no exception.” Lady Thul continued standing, thoughtful. “But she is perhaps most noted for her stubborn refusal to marry, and for the humilities she pours on those that ask.”

“Looks like Lady Rist and I need to chat.”

“Yes,” agreed Lady Thul. “I’d say so, too. And if she’s still in love with Nomar, then you may be able to convince her to lure Nomar to Alderaan.”

That sounded almost too easy to Wenia. “If arguments fail, I have other ways.”

Andronikos snorted. Urtel raised his eyebrows, curious. And Elana Thul wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Whatever method you prefer, Lord Zana, though I hope it doesn’t come to that. But be wary. To reach Rehanna Rist, you’ll have to contend with the deadliest assassins on Alderaan.” She paused. “Good luck.”

Lady Thul left through the door to her private chambers in a swish of her blue dress.

Wenia stood, watching Urtel glide towards her.

“Good to see you again, my Lord. I’m supposed to be giving a report to my lady.” He didn’t make any move to follow Lady Thul.

“I was hoping to get to know you better.”

The Sith guard smiled. “Did you have something in mind?” he asked. “My report will keep.”

“I thought you might show me where you live in this palace.”

Urtel stepped closer. He smelt of campfire smoke. “I do have some very comfortable rooms nearby. We could talk more freely there.”

“I would like that.”

“As you wish.” Urtel guided her out of the sitting room, down a hall, and into his private quarters. The rooms were decorated in the reds and golds of traditional Alderaan décor, fire embers crackling to ward off the early spring chill.

He sat on the couch. “Tell me about Darth Skotia.”

“Why?” He’d asked about him before, curious how she defeated the cyborg Sith. She joined him, sinking into the couch’s cushions.

Urtel observed her with his handsome red eyes. “Because he was powerful. And, I do not wish to offend, but you were not as powerful then, yet you triumphed.” He saw that she was still hesitant. “I believe, that if you can discover a weakness to someone more powerful, then it does not matter that you are weaker. Obviously you knew his weakness.”

“Sort of.” Wenia explained the destruction of the Trandosian artifact, how she shorted out his cybernetics. “But he was still almost too powerful.” For both her and Khem together.

Urtel leaned close. “But you won.” He kissed her, lips hard and dragging her closer, not that she was complaining.

He could tell her what she’d done wrong, what she should’ve known with Andronikos. Or maybe she’d done nothing wrong at all and just needed experience. He could tell her.

The Sith guard pulled away for a moment to stroke the fire with the nearby poker, bringing the flames back to life, heating up the room.

Wenia shuddered slightly. Her burn scar prickled.

Urtel gently tilted her head back to his, and returned to kissing her.

His tongue darted out and traced her lips. She pressed closer, impatient. He obliged and pulled her atop him, not caring that she wasn’t the lightest to lift. His fingers found the laces to her robes. And undid them, the sleeves pooling around her wrists.

“My Lord,” Urtel once again pulled away. “What happened?” he asked, running his hand over her scar as it traveled from her elbow up to her temple.

Wenia didn’t want to talk about her father’s hatred for his bastard daughter. “Fire,” she said simply, and kissed him again.

Urtel was smiling and not kissing her back.

“I know your weakness, Lord Zana.”

She screamed as the poker dug into her scarred shoulder.

Urtel shoved her off of him, a malicious smirk twisting his face, red eyes leering out at her.

Wenia pulled her robes back up, wincing at the painful movements of her left arm. She Force-pushed him away, through the door she guessed that went to the bedroom.

She bit her tongue. This burn was nothing, nothing compared to her previous experience ten years ago. But the fire… that fear still remained.

She had to get out the rooms, get away from the flames, leave the Sith guard behind to explain to his lady why he was late.

Wenia checked that her robes were secure enough before bolting out the sitting room, not watching where she was going.


End file.
